


Setting in a Honeymoon

by LilaHurley



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Grease AU, Happy Ending, I say Grease AU but it's very loosely based, M/M, Smut, also it's set in 2003 not the 1960's, smut in later chapters I promise!!!!!, very few of the pairings from Grease are in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilaHurley/pseuds/LilaHurley
Summary: Patrick moans again, brings his hands down to Pete's shoulders and starts pushing up. Pete is left with his lips still pouted, wet and swollen. He opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, who is looking past Pete. His eyes are wet and Pete can tell it's not from the sea water anymore."Patrick?" he whispers, "What's wrong?""I just, I know once you go back to Chicago, I'm not going to see you again." Patrick sniffles. He brings his hand up to wipe at his eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Patrick noticed about Pete was his smile. Bright, blinding, perfect rows of white teeth. He told Patrick he thought he looked like a horse when he smiled. Patrick disagrees. And right now, on the beach where they first met, Patrick knows the thing he'll remember most about Pete is his smile, too. He's standing, watching Pete run across the beach as the waves break on the shore, slipping on the soft, wet sand, looking kind of like a newborn baby deer, and it's the most beautiful way Patrick has ever seen another human move. Wait, wait. Is he? He's coming towards Patrick. With, is that a bucket? Of water? Oh no, no Patrick just bought this hat. It can't get ruined. He turns and starts running in the other direction, slipping in the sand just like his mind mocked Pete only seconds earlier. Logically he knows he's not getting out of this one dry. He's short, kind of tubby, absolutely hates moving unless it's necessary. Pete, on the other hand, while not much taller, still has a few inches on Patrick. He's lean muscle, a soccer prodigy back home in Chicago. He turns his head back, and Pete is about three steps behind him, grinning like a maniac. Patrick turns to look forward just in time to see an enormous abandoned sand castle. The thing is, despite his inner monologue telling him he's not moving very fast at all, he is actually moving fast. Fast enough that his feet can't catch up with his brain in time, and he falls face first onto the sand. He hears Pete skid to a halt behind him, laughing like a donkey.  
"Holy shit dude, you really ate it!" Pete hollers, bucket hanging forgotten in his hand.  
Patrick turns onto his back, spitting up sand and glaring at Pete. He's not amused.  
"Yeah thanks. I think that earns me a free pass out of getting the water dumped on me right? I'm soaking wet already. You got what you wanted." Patrick replies, occasionally pausing to pull grains of sand from the tip of his tongue.  
"Oh," Pete's face falls, Patrick tracks his face as it turns to look at the bucket in his hand, watches his mouth turn up into a smirk. "This water? Oh, what's a little more anyway? Like you said, you're already soaked." he finishes.  
"Pete, please. I'll buy you an ice cream, I'll let you draw tattoos on me, I'll, fuck, I don't know, I'll sing for you!" Patrick bargains. Pete looks like he's considering it, but he's still smirking. He's lifting the bucket to balance on the palm of his hand.  
"You'll sing for me anyway, Trick. I hear you when you don't think I'm listening." Pete whispers.  
"Y-you. Wha-," Patrick manages to get out before his mouth is again, filled. But with disgusting, salty sea water. His ears are full too, it's like he's hearing everything through a cup, and he can hear Pete cackling.  
He sits up, coughing, trying to wipe his eyes with the collar of the shirt he's wearing. He liked this shirt. It's Bowie. He doubts it'll ever smell not like fishy water again. He peels his eyes open to see Pete bent over double, on his knees, slapping at the ground, effectively splashing himself in the face with water. Not that he cares anyway, Patrick has spent most of the day sitting on the edge of a rock pool, watching Pete breach the sea like a tattooed porpoise.  
"Oh man! Pattycakes, your fucking face! Did that go in slow motion for you too? You- you-," and that's all he gets out before he's bending down again, forehead to the ground and laughing like it told the funniest joke in the world. Patrick stares at him, starts to stand and walk back to their towels so he can dry off his hair and face properly. Oh no, his hat. He picks it up off the ground, tips it up so all the water pours out and throws it at Pete.  
"You ass! I just bought that hat! It's ruined, you owe me a hat you fucker." Patrick yells.  
"Aww, Patrick. Don't be mad. I'll buy you a million hats, I'll buy you a hat every day for the rest of your life. Our lives." Pete pouts. Patrick stares at him, lightly tapping his foot in consideration. If Pete was that easy to coerce into buying a hat, Patrick wonders what else he can get out of him. Dinner?  
"I'm not mad. I'm lightly peeved, Pete. You won't like me when I'm peeved." Patrick grits out. Pete stares up at him from the floor, eyes wide. He sits up and reaches his arm out for Patrick to take. Patrick lightly slaps his hand away. Pete puts his hand out again, shaking it slightly, humming lightly. He hangs his head when Patrick doesn't make to grab for his hand, which starts falling to the ground. He makes to stand up, which is when Patrick pounces on him, tackling him to the ground and covering his face in kisses. He grabs the hand that Pete had held of for him and weaves their fingers together as he kisses each of Pete's eyelids. He pulls back and looks Pete in the face, trying to commit it to memory. Pete looks right back at him, lifting his other hand to run it through the front of Patrick's now damp hair. He slides his hand to the back of Patrick's head and pulls him down for a real kiss. They've never progressed further than soft kisses, but Pete is feeling the moment and he runs his tongue along Patrick's bottom lip as a request. Patrick moans quietly, kissing a little more forcefully, but doesn't open his mouth. So Pete tries again, adds teeth this time. He lets go of Patrick's hand to move it to the small of his back, risking a little movement in his hips. Patrick moans again, brings his hands down to Pete's shoulders and starts pushing up. Pete is left with his lips still pouted, wet and swollen. He opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, who is looking past Pete. His eyes are wet and Pete can tell it's not from the sea water anymore.  
"Patrick?" he whispers, "What's wrong?"  
"I just, I know once you go back to Chicago, I'm not going to see you again." Patrick sniffles. He brings his hand up to wipe at his eyes.  
"Hey, hey. Baby, come on. We swapped numbers okay. I'll call you before we've even left california. Before I've even left the hotel room. I promise." Pete replies, running the back of his hand down Patrick's cheek. Patrick snorts quietly. Which should never be cute, but Patrick has somehow rewritten every rule there is.  
"Yeah, I know. But I don't know how I'm going to adjust. We've only had 3 weeks together. I don't want to go back to school. I don't want you to go home." He coughs out the last part, rolling off Pete and standing on shaky legs. Pete stands up next to him, puts his hand around his waist and starts walking back towards their things.  
"I know. It'll be hard for me too, but we can do it. We can text, call. Once I get that car I was promised for my 19th birthday I can drive here to see you. It'll be like I never left." Pete smiles, turning his head to the side to watch Patrick's frown turn up into a little smile too. When they reach their things, Pete bends to grab Patrick's towel and he turns back to see Patrick with his head down, hands held together as his shoulders shake. Pete sighs, puts Patrick's towel over his head and softly runs it back and forth to dry his hair. He pulls it back, looks at Patrick's red eyes, and wraps it around his shoulders as he pulls him in to kiss him on the forehead. Patrick looks up and chews his lip, like he's holding back on something.  
"What's on your mind?" Pete asks.  
"I've never felt like this about anyone. I thought I loved Natasha Leminsky in the 5th grade, but I think that was just because she always gave me her chocolate pudding from the cafeteria. I-" Patrick cuts himself off and looks at the ground again. Pete lifts his hand and puts two fingers under Patrick's chin, making him look up and into Pete's eyes. He nods his head a little to let Patrick know it's okay to carry on. Patrick breathes in a long breath.  
"I know it's only been three weeks, I know. But this isn't a summer fling for me, I want to see you again Pete." he says fiercely, looking from one of Pete's eyes to the other.  
"No. No, it's not a fling Patrick. I promise you. It's not." Pete replies, he pulls Patrick in for a hug, and Patrick buries his face in his neck. After a minute or two, he pulls back, sniffs in, and smiles up at Pete.  
"Okay. I feel better. I don't want to ruin the day. Buy me dinner?" he smirks at Pete. Pete puts his hands over his heart and gasps.  
"Patrick, I am not your sugar daddy!" he laughs. "Come on, let's go get dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

Pete groaned at the first sound of his alarm. It was Monday already? He rolled over, slapping his hand across his bedside table until it came into contact with his alarm clock, but he slapped too hard, and it slipped to the ground on the other side of the table. He groaned like he was in pain, clenched his fists and slammed them down on either side of his body as he lay in his bed.  
"Nnngh, why is it Monday. Why do I have to wake up at 6am? My first class isn't until 11am!" he yells to no one in particular, putting his hands over his eyes.  
"We have induction-"  
"JESUS. Oh fuck. Dude, don't do that." Pete glares at his dorm mate. Alex? Alfred? Andy? Andy.  
"Sorry. Sorry," Andy apologises, holding his hands out. "We have induction at 9am, and the breakfast hall is from 7.30am til 8.30am. You should shower." he finishes, bending down to tuck a lace into his boot.  
"Right. And if I skip breakfast? Do I get another hour?" Pete bargains.  
"You can't skip breakfast, man. You'll be groggy all day. You won't get to eat til 1pm. You'll feel better after a shower, get up." Andy glares, leaving the room and slamming their door.  
Why is he leaving at 6am? Is there some secret vegan meet up at sunrise? Pete pulls himself into a sitting position. He runs his hands down his face and sighs. His second year at college. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to continue here, but Patrick told him to keep going. Patrick. It usually only takes around 20 minutes after Pete wakes up to remember Patrick. He left California 4 weeks ago. He left Patrick 4 weeks ago. He hasn't called. He hasn't called. Why hasn't he called?  
He heaves himself up and walks into their bathroom, he should call Patrick. It's a niggling thought all through his shower, all through breakfast. While he's walking to his first class he suddenly remembers being drunk 2 weeks ago. He did try to call Patrick, only, Patrick didn't pick up. He walks into orientation and takes a seat near the back, just so he can lay his head on the desk and zone out. While he's looking out of the window horizontally, he hears a quiet knock, a cough and an "Uhm, excuse me, is this orientation?"  
Pete recognises that voice.  
"Joe Trohman! Troh!" Pete woops, waving obnoxiously as though he wasn't one of 5 people in the class. Joe whips his head round, smiling broadly and bouncing over to Pete.  
"Hey dude! How was summer? Mom found my stash. One of my stashes." Joe babbles, the whites of his eyes perpetually red.  
"I uh-" Pete begins to reply, but the professor interrupts him.  
"Welcome to your second year of DePaul!" Mr Harrington says, entirely too cheerful for a Monday morning. The class groan in reply.

"I-I don't know why I'm so nervous Brendon. It's just music. That's what I know how to do best." Patrick stammers.  
"You'll be great dude. It's just music in a different place." Brendon replies, slinging his arm across Patrick's shoulder.  
"You're right. It's gonna be fine." Patrick breathes out. He shakes his hands off, like he's shaking off the nerves.  
"Let's go meet my friends!" Brendon smiles, grabbing Patrick's still shaking hand and tugs him along.  
"Patrick, this is Mikey, Ryan, and Spencer. Patrick will be here 3 days a week for music." Brendon explains.  
"Ooh, a prodigy." Mikey says, with a bored looking face.  
"Ignore him, he's jealous of anyone who can even so much as breathe better than him." Brendon says to Patrick, under his breath.  
"Hi, I'm Spencer. I'll be joining you on music too." A boy with fluffy brown hair and a dusting of facial hair says.  
"Ugh, we all will. God Spencer," Mikey says, pushing himself up off the bench he was sitting on. "I'm going to get our schedules. Who's coming?"

"Anyway, before we got interrupted in class earlier, what did you do all summer?" Joe asks Pete, while he bites into a sandwich.  
"Uh well, we went to California, so I spent most of my time there at the beach." Pete replies, picking at the bread on his sandwich.

"What did you do this summer, Patrick?" Brendon asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand.  
"Well, I just moved from California. I spent most of the summer on the beach with a boy I met. He's from Chicago too," Patrick says, smiling at the memory.  
"Yikes, good luck finding him in a population of almost 3 million" Mikey mutters. Ryan slaps his leg. Patrick looks down at his hands and then back up to Brendon.  
"He was so sweet." Patrick grins.

"So, you met this boy. Fell in love, and you haven't called him?" Joe exclaims. He leans forward slowly and slaps Pete on the back of the head.  
"Ouch! I know okay? I know man. I wanted to call I just. I got too into my head, I told myself he wouldn't want to hear from me." Pete mumbles. He throws his sandwich into the trash can as they walk past.

"So, what was his name? Maybe we could go out on the weekends and look for him!" Brendon says excitedly.  
"Oh! Pete. Pete Wentz." Patrick replies. The table erupts into laughter, Ryan holding his chest, leaning back and laughing at the sky.  
"What? What's funny?" Patrick frowns.  
"Oh nothing. Nothing. I'm sorry," Ryan splutters "Maybe he'll turn up. When you least expect it."


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on Patrick, it'll be fun! Forget about that dick that didn't call you." Brendon spits while he drags Patrick along the gravel.  
"He's not a dick he just...didn't call." Patrick whispers. His bottom lip starts trembling, no. He will not cry about Pete Wentz again.  
"Alright let's go!" He exclaims, faking enthusiasm.

"I tried to call. I did! It says number disconnected. He must've blocked my number. I fucked it up, Joe." Pete whimpers, pressing his face into his pillow.  
"Oh man, I'm sorry. You said you called once before too?" Joe says softly, rubbing Pete's back.  
"Yeah," Pete sniffs. "I called from a phone box though. Maybe he doesn't answer unknown numbers."  
"This won't fix it, but it'll make you feel better, let's go along to the pep rally tonight. You're the star soccer player!" Joe beams.  
"If I say no, you're going to drug me and drag me there anyway, aren't you?" Pete slumps, spine twisted at an uncomfortable angle against his headboard.  
"You know it, motherfucker!" Joe grins.

Patrick is sat between an over enthusiastic Brendon, and Mikey who looks like he wants to be anywhere other than here.  
"I'm gonna go get some soda!" Patrick yells over all the chattering, hollering and music.  
"Oh! Get me some please!" Brendon yells back, turning behind to push at the person who accidentally kicked his back. "People are sitting here, ass!" he spits out, before turning and giving Patrick an angelic grin.  
"Mikey?" Patrick questions. Mikey looks up from his phone, and nods his head before looking back down.  
"Uh, you're welcome?" Patrick rolls his eyes as he walks to get soda.

"I'm gonna get us some drinks, go find the others." Joe says to Pete, pushing him towards the rows of benches.  
Pete pushes his way through the crowds of people, finding his way to Gabe, Andy and Travie.  
"Hey guys. How's it going?" Pete mutters, not even pretending to be interested in the answer.  
"I'm good man. Summer was good too, what's troubling you? You look like your dog just died." Travie pouts, reaching to place his hand on Pete's knee.  
"Oh he's heartbroken," Gabe says, rolling his eyes, "Don't worry, papi can take better care of you than a little chico from California can." Gabe finishes as he runs his fingers across Pete's shoulder.  
"Gross man, get off. We've known each other since birth. You're like my brother." Pete grumbles as he pushes Gabe's hand away.  
"Hey guys, drinks!" Joe declares as he pushes his way to them.

Patrick sits through most of the speeches, most of the hype, daydreaming. He's thinking about Pete, how his skin was warm, his smile was bright, his hands were always soft when they ran through Patrick's hair. He thinks about that unknown number that called him at 3am a couple weeks ago. Was it Pete? Why would it be, why wouldn't he call from his phone? Anyway, Patrick doesn't answer unknown numbers. That was a rule when his mom got him the phone. He's changed his number since then, his mom and dad put him on their plan since it was cheaper for them. What if Pete is still calling? Does it ring out or say disconnected? Patrick doesn't know which one is worse. He stands, starting to walk away. He needs space. Brendon notices and trails behind him.  
"Hey, you okay?" Brendon looks at Patrick sympathetically.  
"Not really, can we just go back to the dorm? I want to be in my bed." Patrick says back, looking at the ground. Brendon whips his head around and looks at Mikey, who is giving him a thumbs up in front of a manic smile.  
"Um, sure," he says, turning his head back to look at Patrick, "there's just something I need to show you first. You're gonna love it." He grabs Patricks wrist. 'Why does he have to drag me everywhere?' Patrick thinks.

Andy looks down to see Mikey holding his thumbs up at him, he turns and whispers to Travie and Gabe. Pete doesn't even care what they're planning. He stands, figuring he'll just go back to the dorm and sit by himself.  
"Hey Pete, before you go, there's something I gotta show you." Joe says, pulling on Pete's wrist.  
"Joe I really don't-," Pete starts, noticing he's being pulled towards the parking lot.  
"Shhhhh. Shush." Joe hushes.

"Brendon, please. I'm tired, I want to go bac-" Patrick begins, before being pulled in front of Brendon, then pushed into the chest of someone else.  
"What the fuck?!" He and the person he crashed into yell in unison.

Patrick stops, he looks up.  
Pete stops, he looks down.

"P...Patrick?" Pete questions.  
"Pete?" Patrick questions back.  
"What are you- what are you doing here?" Pete asks, lifting his hands to hold Patrick's face between them.  
"My dad got a job in the city! So I chose to come to college in Chicago, I didn't think you were coming back here!" Patrick smiles, holding onto Pete's wrists.  
"I-," Pete starts, then crashes his lips into Patrick's. Patrick kisses back, wrapping his arms around Pete's neck, allowing Pete to wrap his arms around his waist and lift him into the air. Gabe laughs, steadily getting louder.  
"Oh PLEASE." he yells, pushing between the couple. " Pete was JUST making plans to come back to my dorm. Weren't you zorra?" He grabs Pete's ass, making him yelp.  
"Pete?" Patrick asks, looking over at him.  
"I wasn't, Gabe tell him I wasn't!" Pete stomps out.  
"Sure. You definitely didn't want to see what I can do with my tongue." He finishes with a wink, flicking his tongue out.  
"You know what?" Patrick says, stepping closer to Pete "Fuck you. I knew that when a skinnier, better looking guy came along you'd jump right onto him. Enjoy." Patrick grits out, before slapping Pete across the face. Hard. He turns and walks away as fast as he can, hands up to his face. Pete stands there with his mouth open, staring at Patrick's retreating form. He spins on his heel and jabs his finger into Gabe's chest.  
"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?" he screams, gaining the attention of everyone walking past them.  
"Chill papi, it was just a joke. Don't get your cahonies in a twist. Go after your boy."  
Travie, Andy and Joe look on dejectedly. Pete looks back, Patrick has gone.  
"I don't think he's my boy anymore." he whispers.


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick runs into his dorm, slamming the door behind him without thinking that Brendon needs to get in. He falls face first into his bed, pulling the pillow to his face and sobbing into it.  
"Patrick?" Brendon whispers as he opens the door to their dorm. He's greeted with Patrick's shaking back while he lays on his bed.  
"Oh, Patrick. I should have said. Pete is a dog. He's worse than a dog, he's a flea on a dog. Worst than that, he's an amoeba on a flea on a dog!" Brendon giggles while he rubs Patrick's quivering form. Patrick sniffs and turns over.  
"It's just, he told me it wasn't just a fling. He wanted us to be forever. I'm so stupid. I wish I never met him." Patrick is sobbing again by the time he finishes. Joe leans over and grabs some tissues, gently dabbing at his tears.  
"Hey, why don't I ask the guys to come over with some drinks?" He asks, smiling at Patrick.  
"Yeah, yeah that sounds good. Anything to forget," He adds "Thank you, B."

"Gabe, I told you to leave me alone. I don't even want to look at you right now." Pete growls, picking up his PoliSci2 book and slinging it at the wall.  
"Woah, if I knew he meant this much I wouldn't have messed around. Why don't we just go over there and speak to him?" Gabe says, ducking his head.  
"I don't think I can face him right now. What if he slaps me again, what if he doesn't even want to see me? I can't Gabe, I can't deal with it." Pete falls to the floor, hands pulling at his hair. Gabe gets down to his knees, gently taking Pete's hands from his head.  
"It's worth a try. I'll even apologise, I'll tell him it was a joke." Gabe bargains.

"guys, 'swas a great idea" Patrick hiccups, sitting on a beanbag next to his wardrobe.  
"Okay, that's enough for you." Spencer says, pulling the 40oz from Patrick's hand.  
"Hey, Patrick, can I pierce your ears?" Brendon babbles excitedly. Mikey, Ryan and Spencer groan in unison.  
"Hey! Shh. Let him decide! Patrick?" Brendon pleads. Hands held together in front of him.  
"Um, I'm not sure, I'm scared." Patrick says, holding his hand up to pinch one of his earlobes. Ouch. No way.  
"I promise I'm good! I did my own!" He grins.  
"I don't know my mom might get mad she told me I- OW!" Patrick shouts, reaching up to his earlobe once again. So, not drunk enough to block out pain, he concludes.  
"Uh, maybe we should go in the bathroom. the RA will kill me if I get blood on the carpet." Brendon says as he stands.  
"Blood?" Patrick pales. He remembers skinning his knee on a rock at the beach. Oh good, he's thinking about Pete again.  
"It'll only bleed for like, a second." Brendon explains, pulling him into the bathroom and closing the door.  
Ryan grimaces as he hears another pained yelp from behind the door, then he leans into Mikey and Spencer.  
"Hey guys, I feel really bad for Patrick." He starts.  
"Oh who cares? I bet he wouldn't even stick his tongue in someone's mouth unless he was married." Mikey drawls as he takes another sip of his rum.  
"That's harsh, he seemed pretty into it before Gabe interrupted." Spencer counters, looking back down to continue writing.  
"What are you writing anyway? It's 2003, not 1903." Ryan says, slipping off Patrick's bed to lay on his stomach next to Spencer.  
"Just some guys I met this summer. Writing letters is romantic. Shut up." He huffs out.  
"Bleugh, all this romance crap makes me wanna barf." Mikey states, as the door to the bathroom opens.  
"Guys Patrick got sick. I'm not sure if it was the blood or the alcohol but I didn't even get to do it before he bent down and blew chunks" Brendon pouts, dropping onto his bed.  
"Of course he did." Mikey laughs, just before there's a knock at the door. Brendon stands and opens it, coming face to chest with Gabe.  
"What do you want?" He grumbles.  
"Lover boy is here for Patrick. Where is he?" Gabe says, pushing Brendon aside.  
"Yeah sure come on in," Brendon waves to the empty doorway sarcastically. "He's in the bathroom. He got sick."  
Pete freezes before crashing into the bathroom and getting on his knees next to Patrick.  
"Baby, baby it's me. I'm so sorry. Gabe was being an ass, I promise. Are you okay?" Pete chatters, running his hand across the back of Patrick's head. Patrick leans back into Pete, who tears off some tissue to wipes Patrick's forehead and mouth.  
"Hey, wake up." Pete begs, kissing Patrick's head.  
"Looks like he's out, Man." Mikey says from the doorway.  
"Yeah, whatever dude. Help me take him to his bed." Pete growls, lifting Patrick as he stands.


	5. Chapter 5

Patrick wakes up, throbbing pain in his head, throbbing pain in his...earlobe? What happened last night? He leans over the side of his head, fighting the waves of nausea, and sees Brendon, Ryan and Spencer sleeping soundly.  
Brendon and Ryan are curled around each other on Brendon's bed, Spencer at the foot of it, thumb halfway out of his mouth, hand curled around Ryan's ankle. Patrick chuckles, groans because of the pain of chuckling, and decides he needs a shower.  
He rolls out of bed and limps to the bathroom, moaning like a zombie while doing so. He sticks his head under the faucet and drinks straight from the tap, his eyes rolling back into his skull as the cool liquid flows down his dry, hot throat.  
He quietly closes the bathroom door before looking down and seeing a bat shaped pin on the floor next to the toilet. Patrick recognises it, but his brain is hardly functioning enough for him to get a glass of water, let alone connect a random piece of metal to a random memory. He frowns at it, and kicks it towards the door.  
Patrick stands in the shower, shuddering as the water rolls down his back, soothing his aching muscles. He distantly remembers vomiting, but he doesn't remember anything after that. Oh god, what did he do? He grimaces as he steps out of the shower, grabbing the first towel he sees, and wraps it around his waist. He brushes his teeth, gargles some more water and starts leaving the bathroom. Except he stands on that damn pin again. He growls, bends to pick it up and flicks it at the wall. It lands behind the toilet, but Patrick doesn't care. He needs food. Right now.

He makes his way down to the breakfast hall, noticing he's the one of the only people there. Figures, it's late. They're not even serving breakfast anymore, he's just hoping there's a kind enough cook to take pity and give him some toast. He notices the only other person in there, he's sitting by himself, furiously scribbling on some paper. Patrick squints and then shrugs, figures he could make some new friends.  
He slowly walks over the the guy, clearing his throat in preparation to introduce himself.  
"Yeah, sit down, whatever. Don't talk though, I'm onto something." The dude says, not even looking up.  
"Uhh, umm," Patrick stammers, promptly plopping himself down opposite the stranger.  
"Shit, ah. That's rude. My brother told me about that, I'm Gerard." He states, looking up and smiling.  
"Patrick," he replies, holding his hand out for Gerard to shake.  
"Oh, I have charcoal all over my hands-"  
"I don't mind," Patrick smiles. Gerard smiles back, he has small teeth, perfectly straight. "So, what are you drawing?" Patrick asks.  
"Just something I thought about in my dream. It's for a comic book." Gerard blushes.  
"That's cool! My friend Spencer likes comics a whole bunch, you should hang out with us sometime." Patrick says, peering down to look at what Gerard has drawn. And, wow. This guy is talented. Patrick's eyes must be comically bugging out of his head.  
"Oh um, not to be rude, but I like being by myself. Well, and now with you. You're fine. You're quiet like me." Gerard breathes.  
"Well I'm just quiet because I'm hungover." Patrick laughs, pushing his hair put of his eyes.  
"Oh, that's nice I guess. I don't drink." Gerard mutters, still red in the face.  
"How about we get some dinner later, not drink, and talk about art?" Patrick asks, and wow. Where did that come from? He blinks at his hands.  
"Really? I uh, yes. Definitely." Gerard beams. He starts gathering his things, but pauses to scribble on a scrap of paper. He hands it to Patrick.  
"Here's my number, text me." He grins, as he waltzes out of the hall.  
"I will." Patrick replies to the empty room.

"Pete."  
"Peter."  
"Wake up you lazy shit" THWACK. Pete's hand bolts out to grab the fly swatter he was hit with.  
"Th'fuck is your problem man?" He mumbles, eyes still closed.  
"Well, we missed breakfast, for one. So I'm hungry. And after last night, you owe me breakfast." Gabe says, sitting cross legged on his bed, inspecting his nails.  
"Last night?" Pere croaks, wiping the gunk from his eyes "What happened last night?"

Patrick leaves the dining hall to walk across campus towards the music room. No one will be in there today, and he's feeling great. He has some beats in his head that he needs to get out. He slows to a stop when he gets to the courtyard. Eyes drifting from the floor to the fountain ahead of him.  
"What the...fuck?" he whispers. There's a large black bat, crudely spray painted on the floor, the fountain is filled with purple dye, a single converse shoe is hanging from its laces on a tree branch. Along the side of the fountain is more spray paint. Patrick follows the curve of it as he reads the messy writing. 'Hopelessly devoted to you'.

"Oh fuck. Fuck. I'm so....fucked." Pete stammers, fighting to get one leg into his absurdly skinny jeans.  
"Hey, cool down chico. It's Saturday. No professors. We'll go down there quickly and clean it up, no problem" Gabe smiles, spastically waving his arms as he says it. Pete sighs, pushing his foot through the leg of his jeans. His toes get caught on a small rip in the fabric, tearing the hole even bigger. His entire  
scraped knee is showing.  
"This is going to be a long fuckin' day." He mutters.

Patrick wipes the sweat from his forehead as he lays the sticks down on the snare. His head feels so much clearer now. He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out the piece of paper that Gerard had given him. He smiles as he adds it to his phone.

Sent: Gerard 11.59am  
Hey! It's Patrick, do you want to go to the diner for some food at around 7pm? I heard they do great waffles. It's Patrick.

Sent: Gerard 12.01pm  
I said it's Patrick twice. Yikes.

Received: Gerard 12.06pm  
Hey, Patrick Patrick! Yes absolutely, meet you there? :)

Patrick smiles down at his phone, clutches it tighter in his hand. 'Screw you Pete. You mess around with someone else, I will too.' He thinks.  
He slips his phone back into his pocket and stands. He could use another shower.

"Scrub HARDER" Pete growls, snatching the brillo pad put of Gabe's hand.  
"Ooh I love it when you talk dirty to me, papi" Gabe wiggles his eyebrows at Pete.  
"You're disg-" Pete starts, interrupted by a door closing across the courtyard. He sees Patrick walking towards him, his face turned down to his phone, typing. He's smiling, biting his lip. He looks up at Pete and pales, quickly looking at the spray paint, then the shoe still dangling stupidly from the tree. He swiftly turns on his heel and goes back the way he came from. Yanking the door almost off its hinges and letting it slam behind him.  
Pete groans and slaps his hands to his face, forgetting that they're covered in a mixture of soap, spray paint and wet dirt. He groans.

Sent: Gerard 12.49pm  
Change of plans. Want to go now? I need a happy face to cheer me up.

Received: Gerard 12.51pm  
Sure, see you in twenty.

Patrick waits in the booth, tapping his foot anxiously. He never got to shower, but he went into the bathroom quickly and drowned himself in body spray. That'll do. He looks up when he hears the bell above the door go off, and smiles when Gerard waves at him. he beckons him over and watches him slip into the other side of the booth.  
"What's up?" Gerard smiles, showing off his small teeth.  
"Just, saw my ex, the guy he cheated on me with standing right next to him." Patrick explains. Gerard frowns, reaching out to place his hand on top of Patrick's.  
"What an idiot, who could cheat on someone like you?" He grins. Just as Patrick moves his hand to link his fingers with Gerard's, the bell above the door rings again.  
"Ah! Pete!" Croons the waitress.  
"Hey Ashlee. Could I get your biggest chocolate milkshake?" Pete asks, plopping down at the bar.  
"Aw, sure sugar. And I'll get you some pancakes to go with it too." She smiles, ruffling Pete's hair.  
"Thanks, Ashlee. You always know how to chee-" Pete stops abruptly, spotting Patrick across the room. Patrick stares back, shocked. Then, in the dirtiest move possible, he weaves his fingers between the guy's in front of him, and raises his eyebrow at Pete, who promptly slams his face down onto the questionably sticky bar.

"Who's that?" questions Gerard, watching Patrick smirk.  
"The one who cheated." Patrick mutters, turning back to look at Gerard. He opens his menu and decides what he wants.  
"Hey, what do you want? I'll go order" He says, sliding out of the booth, letting go of Gerard's hand.  
"They usually come to us, but I'll have some blueberry pancakes" Gerard replies, closing his menu and pushing it to the side of the table.  
"Coming right up mister" Patrick grins.

"Fancy seeing you here." Patrick mumbles, not even looking at Pete.  
"Yeah. Having fun with Mikey's brother over there?" Pete replies, mouth smushed against the vinyl top.  
"Matter of fact, I am. Working on getting a certain someone out of my head." Quips Patrick, reeling off their order to the waitress behind the bar.  
"You know, they come to you. You don't need to come up here." Pete garbles.  
"Oh I know." Patrick smirks, leaning over and taking a long sip of Pete's milkshake.  
"Have fun getting oil paint out of your clothes, I guess." Pete glares, smirking at Gerard and lifting his hand to wave lightly at him. Gerard awkwardly lifts his to wave back, confused.  
Patrick rolls his eyes and walks back to their booth, ungracefully slipping back into the squeaky bench and reaches for Gerard's hand again.  
"You didn't tell me you were Mikey's brother." Patrick states, rubbing his thumb along the back of Gerard's hand.  
"You didn't tell me you were using me to get back at someone" Gerard grumbles, picking at the peeling plastic table cloth.  
"I'm not! I really like you. Promise." Patrick smiles. Forgetting about Pete for a moment. Their food arrives and they eat together, occasionally feeding each other bites of their food.  
They stand to leave, Patrick shivering in the breeze of the air conditioning. Gerard pulls his jacket from his own shoulders and lays it across Patrick's, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.  
"Thanks," Patrick blushes. "Shall we walk back to campus? I have some papers I need to write." He explains, holding the door open for Gerard. He glances back to the bar as he leaves, seeing Pete's dejected face actually hurts him a little, he watches Pete reach up and wipe at his eyes.  
"Sure, but we'll go out again soon right?" Gerard hints, looking at Patrick from under his eyelashes. They reach the courtyard, completely devoid of any evidence that it was trashed this morning, hug, and go their separate ways.

As Patrick is sitting at the fountain watching the water lightly ripple, he hears footsteps coming towards him, slowing to a stop. He sees a familiar purple converse in the corner of his eye. He glances up and sees Pete looking down at him.  
"I can't deal with this right now." Patrick sighs, standing up and walking towards the door.  
"Patrick please, wait." Pete chokes out, while tears flow from his eyes.  
"Just, leave me alone, Pete." Patrick whispers, waving a hand to dismiss him.

Patrick gets back up to his room, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He lays on his bed, looking at the ceiling. Maybe he was too harsh on Pete. But Patrick is so hurt, Pete moved on so fast. Less than a month! He groans, pulling his blanket above his head. He doesn't want to cry, not again. But he can't stop it. He turns to press his face into the pillow, and sobs. He loved Pete, loves Pete. He hears a knock and ignored it.  
"Patrick," Pete pleads on the other side. "Please, I need to talk to you." He begs. Patrick cries even harder, biting his pillow to stifle it.  
"Go away Pete!" He screams.  
"No. I'll sleep out here if I have to!" Pete yells back. Patrick hears someone talk to Pete, steadily getting louder.  
"Well, maybe you shouldn't be friends with such ASSHOLES!" he hears Brendon blurt. Patrick smiles, he's so thankful for Brendon. He hears Pete sigh, and tap the door.  
"Just tell him I'm sorry." Pete says before Patrick hears him walk away. So much for sleeping outside until Patrick talks to him. He hears Brendon unlock their door and close it behind him. Patrick feels the bed dip, and he pulls the blanket down to tuck it under his chin. His face is tear streaked, his eyes feel sticky.  
"Oh baby," Brendon mumbles, laying down next to Patrick. "He says he's sorry, you should hear him out." He finishes, stroking Patrick's hair. It reminds Patrick of Pete drying his hair at the beach.  
"I l-loved him so much," he whimpers, pressing his face into Brendon's shoulder.  
"Hey, why don't we get take out, watch some John Hughes and forget about stupid boys." Brendon suggests.  
"Yeah," Patrick sniffs, wiping his face. "That sounds great, thank you, B." He ends with a smile.

Pete sat in the darkness of his wardrobe. He's ashamed of himself for losing Patrick already, but he knows it's what he deserves. He doesn't even have Gabe here to cheer him up. He laughs bitterly, squeaking his foot along the floor of the closet. He remembers a shirt Patrick gave him. He tumbles out of the mess of clothes (which he really should hang up at some point) and pulls his drawer open. It's the Bowie shirt from the beach. He holds it to his face and breathes in. He scrunches his nose up, it still kind of smells like sea water. But he can smell Patrick too. He lays it down next to him in bed and curls around it, and falls asleep holding it to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to flax_wench for reading it over and being my hype man. angsters in crime.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind, this is the first thing I've ever written. Well, not ever. I wrote a story about my summer holidays when I was 8. But that was at the teachers request, this uh, definitely was not.


End file.
